


"That sounds like a horrible idea."

by TheWeirdOneL



Series: All The Times Irondad Broke and Mended My Heart [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Brief mentions of the other Avengers - Freeform, Gen, edit: this has officially been properly edited with a clear 8 hours sleep mind, i edited this mostly at 4am so rest in pieces, its just a fun loving family friendly fic, its just some nice avengers family shit, peter has bad ideas and tony loves it, peter wants revenge, this is cute and its the first non angst one ive done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15584934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdOneL/pseuds/TheWeirdOneL
Summary: Peter Parker is well known for his tendency to come up with bad ideas. But just this once, he might've made a breakthrough, and not without the help of Tony Stark.Part 3 of my little irondad chicken ficlets, based on the prompt: "That sounds like a horrible idea."





	"That sounds like a horrible idea."

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of me thinks this is good but then again 90% of it was written between the hours of 2am and 5am so what would I know. Anyways here's another nice irondad ficlet to cure my writing slussy, which may or may not be 2/3 days late because I have no concept of time anymore.

“Mr. Stark! I have this amazing idea and-”

“No.”

Tony looked up from his laptop with a blank expression on his face as Peter came stumbling into the room, haphazardly throwing his backpack into the corner with a huge, mischievous grin on his face. Just a few steps in tow, Happy walked in carrying a duffel bag and gently placed it onto the floor. He grumbled something only Peter could hear, and Tony chuckled at the way Peter’s grin suddenly turned bashful, and he gave Happy a quick apology. That seemed to satisfy him, because he turned to look at Tony, gave him one of his prized _‘he’s your problem now’_ grins, and walked off with a strut in his step. Tony had no doubt that Happy had just spent the past half hour listening to Peter ramble about this so-called ‘amazing’ idea, and he had no doubt that Happy loved every minute of it no matter how grumpy his exterior. But that was a topic for another time.

Turning back to Peter, he watched as the kid excitedly walked up to him and jumped up onto the desk, swinging his legs over the edge with childish glee. Tony could practically see the hundreds of words threatening to explode out of his mouth, but when he gave no indication of wanting to hear this ‘amazing’ idea, Peter let out a huff of annoyance instead.

“Come _on_ , Mr. Stark, you’ll love this one, I promise!” he begged, big brown eyes wide and pleading. Those damned puppy dog eyes; if Tony was going to keep this place from falling apart from Peter’s stupid ideas he’d have to keep his eyes closed permanently. After all, if this idea was anything like the last dozen then something was surely going to break.

Peter had a tendency - for lack of a more severe word - to come up with the worst ideas known to humankind. And that statement was coming from _Tony Stark_ , the same man who threatened _and_ gave his literal address to terrorists that one time. Tony hoped to God that Peter never has enemies like he’s had, otherwise the kid would be absolutely screwed and Tony would probably lose all of his hair from the stress of it. The kid was a genius, but he could be so dumb so many times. And yet, knowing all of that, Tony always caved. No matter how ridiculously disastrous the last had gone, Tony always indulged in each of Peter’s new ideas. He didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was those damned puppy dog eyes, or maybe it was because Peter’s youthful chaotic energy tempted his own to come out of hiding - either way, it always led to disaster for the both of them. But not today - he refused to get roped in to another bad idea. There were only so many times one man could survive the wrath of Pepper Potts.

With no more sign of giving in than before, Tony leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow, saying no more. Peter’s shoulders slumped.

“You haven’t even heard me out yet,” he grumbled, a sudden pout growing on his face. He was playing dirty, but damn it if it wasn’t working. Tony didn’t know when he’d grown soft - any other time that he'd refused something, that was it. No argument, no questions asked. But Peter was just as stubborn as he was, and it was almost admirable, if not a little terrifying.

“Alright, fine,” Tony huffed, and in retrospect he realised that was probably the moment that he’d caved but refused to admit it to himself. “I will give you a minute - a _minute_ \- to explain this brilliant idea of yours, and then I will judge whether or not I will help you.”

Peter’s eyes lit up instantly, the fake pout on his face disappearing when he finally got what he’d wanted. “Really? Thank you-”

“Minute’s already started, kid.”

Peter’s eyes widened in fear, and the thousands of words brewing under his tongue fell out a mile a minute. “Ohcrapokay, so you know how Clint dyed all of my clothes pink a few months ago and he said it was an accident but we all know he totally did it on purpose and then when I bought new clothes he kept doing it over and over again for like the entire month?”

Tony couldn’t help but answer with a snort of laughter. He remembered that month all too well. Nothing had been safe from Clint’s chaos - tops, hoodies, sweatpants, socks, _everything_ had been turned pink. Peter had even stopped coming to the tower just to avoid it, but Clint had apparently been feeling evil that month and just broke into the Parker household and stole all of his new clothes in response. It was brutal, but Christ it was _hilarious_. Tony was sure it was because of that one time Peter bested Clint in some stupid archery game on the Wii, he was sure of it. Anyone who claimed Clint Barton wasn’t a bitter bitch was just downright wrong. What had made the entire thing even worse was that Peter wouldn’t have even minded - he would’ve flaunted that pink wherever he went (too much like Tony in that way) - had the pink not have been a luminescent safety-jacket-neon colour. It was awful. Tony still had pictures.

“Don’t laugh, that was the worst month of my entire life! I thought it would never end!”

“30 seconds,” Tony warned, the smirk not leaving his face.

“Ugh, okay, so I wanted to get revenge for _that_ , so I talked to Bruce and he said he would help me and so we’re going to make this formula that turns all of the hair on Clint’s body green for a month or two, because you know he hates green, and then because Nat is, like, super stealthy and stuff, she said she would help replace all of his shampoo and body wash with the stuff we make and,” Peter rambled breathlessly, and when Tony raised ten fingers and started counting down he sped up more than he even thought possible. “And I need your help making the formula and making sure Clint doesn’t kill me afterwards.”

Peter took in a few deep breaths as he finished, watching Tony with hopeful, expectant eyes as the latter dropped his hands and started rubbing at his chin. After a few moments of internally laughing at Peter’s desperation, he shook his head.

“That sounds like a horrible idea.”

“Oh,” Peter murmured, shoulders slumping again and face dropping into a sad frown. “So you don’t wanna help?”

It was the implication that, regardless of Tony’s involvement, this particular idea was _going_ to happen, that solidified Tony’s answer. He didn’t want to be left out of _this_ , after all.

“I didn’t say _that_ ,” he grinned, standing up to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Now come on Dexter, let’s go grab the big guy and get this show on the road.”

Tony just didn’t have the heart to say no to him. He could say in all honesty that he wouldn’t have minded if, in some (highly) probable circumstance, this whole idea ended up going to shit and Clint murdered either one of them, or both of them. Seeing the smile on Peter’s face when he agreed to help was worth it.

“Dexter? Does that make you Dee Dee, Mr. Stark?” Peter said with a stupid smirk on his face as Tony led them out of the lab.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

Maybe he was wrong.

 

* * *

 

 A whole week had gone by before the plan was ready to be put into action. It was a Friday night and, with such perfect timing it _had_ to be a miracle, all of the Avengers had been called to deal with some mutant octopus near Rhode Island. All of the Avengers, save for Peter. It hadn’t been difficult to get him out. All Tony had to do was kick up a fuss about how dangerous it was for him to be there, considering he’d have nowhere to swing around underwater, and he was out immediately. No one ever dared to argue with Tony in Dad mode. Although Nat had been forced to go along and couldn’t sneak into Clint’s room herself, she’d done the next best thing and given Peter all he’d need to get to Clint’s bathroom through the vents (it worried him that she knew how to do that, but he didn’t question it). It had been easy - more or less a piece of cake - and surprisingly he was in and out within 10 minutes. And now, he was just waiting for everyone to come home.

Making the hair dye formula had been pretty easy too, especially with Tony’s help. It was supposed to react with the water after a few minutes and then immediately dye all the hair it came into contact with, leaving the skin perfectly untouched. If it worked, that is. And with the added help of a little espionage on Natasha’s part, they were able to match each separate batch exactly to the colour and consistency of Clint’s products. It had all been so easy, Peter was sure God was personally on his side just to help him enact his long-awaited revenge. Or maybe Loki was on his side - after all, they _had_ hit it off when they first met. He would have to ask Thor, because all of this was just going _too_ well.

The hardest part, however, was the waiting. He’d spent the whole day since they’d been gone trying to do anything and everything he could without breaking or setting fire to things - which wasn’t much, considering Peter’s clumsiness and tendency to cause, well, fires. He’d watched a few movies, baked a few brownies (bad idea, very dangerous activity for Peter Parker), and he’d even completed all of his upcoming projects for school just to pass the time. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t until near enough midnight that the Avengers finally returned, and Peter was almost certain that he wasn’t going to get his revenge this late. And yet, by some other kind of miracle, they’d all come back near enough drenched in salty water and mutant octopus ink.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Clint complained when he walked in, flicking water at Peter’s face as he passed by to the kitchen.

“No offence,” he said, wiping off the splattered ink with a grimace on his face. “But you smell like crap.”

“Hey, language,” Steve slurred, his tired voice barely carrying its way to the kitchen from the living room, where he was slumped down onto the sofa. By his sides, Bucky, Sam, and Tony were also cramped up onto the three-seater. Meanwhile, Rhodey and Nat remained glued to the beanbags, and Thor and Bruce were collapsed (moreso cuddled up) on one of the armchairs. They looked like a mess.

Clint gave Peter a halfhearted glare, but as soon as he held his arm up to his nose his face contorted into horror and he threw his head back in disgust. “Oh Jesus Christ, kid, you’re right. I’m gonna hit the showers,” he grumbled. Peter had to fight the deep urge to smile like an idiot as Clint walked past him and into the elevator. Only half an hour. Half an hour, tops, and all of his dreams would come true.

At Clint’s announcement, the other Avengers - aside from Tony, Bruce, and Nat - stood up to do the same. It was _really_ starting to smell like the penguin beach at the zoo in there.

“You aren’t gonna have a shower, guys?” Rhodey grimaced, looking down at the very inky-skinned mess of the three remaining teammates.

Tony shook his head. “No way,” he said, bright eyes turning to Peter as an evil smirk spread across the both of their faces. “I don’t think any of us want to miss this.”

“What have you done this time, Tony?” Steve asked, raising a hand to his face to try and wipe away the exhaustion and disappointment. Still, he followed when Sam, Bucky, Thor, and Rhodey went to sit back down.

“Don’t look at me, look at the kid,” he merely replied, and the room instantly fell into one collective groan of exasperation. Peter was infamous for his bad ideas.

“This is already so bad, I can’t wait,” Bucky groaned, but the smirk on his face told Peter he was _definitely_ living for this. Messing with Clint was one of the many things him and Bucky found mutual enjoyment in.

But he wasn’t the only one. No one could wait to see the mess Peter had made.

 

* * *

 

 Almost half an hour later of pacing around the room, eyes flicking obsessively to the slowly ticking clock and the elevator doors, Peter got the revenge he’d been waiting for. In a slow, beautifully dramatic entrance, Clint walked out of the elevator with clenched fists, and it was a spectacular sight. All he was wearing was a pair of shorts, leaving his entire _green_ chest and legs out on display for all to see. Everywhere Peter looked, Clint was green. His arm hair, his leg hair, even the little hairs on his toes had all been painted a dark forest colour. So many jokes to make, so little time (Clint was definitely going to kill him for this). As Peter’s eyes drifted up to his face, he finally burst out into uproarious laughter. His hair looked _ridiculous_ , and where the shampoo must have dripped down his face, his stubble and eyebrows had been reduced to a streaky masterpiece of dark blonde and green. Peter could barely hold himself together as he fell to the ground in tears, accompanied by the bellowing laughter of the Avengers.

“Oh- oh my god,” Peter sputtered out in between giggles. He had to admit, they’d done a great job on that formula. “You look- You look like a _salad_.”

“You have three seconds to run, Parker,” Clint seethed, stepping towards him in slow, angry strides, leaving a trail of green water droplets along the way.

“Hey, hey, Poison Ivy, let’s not ruin my floor,” Tony called out, biting down hard on his lip as he tried to contain his own fits of giggles. He’d already snapped a few pictures - ones that would look great in the new yearly Avengers scrapbook.

“Stark I am going to kill your child and then I’m coming for you, you- you _enabler_ ,” Clint growled, walking over to Peter with eyes still trained angrily on Tony. Peter couldn’t even lift himself up from the floor because he was laughing so hard. He had to show this to Ned and MJ, they would _love_ this.

Tony stood up from the sofa and went to stand in front of Peter, placing his hands on Clint’s chest and trying, _trying_ , not to laugh at how uncannily his chest hair looked like the grass outside. “Alright, Shrek let’s not resort to killing innocent kids now.”

Clint grumbled, looking over Tony’s shoulder and pointing an angry finger at Peter. “I’ll get you.”

The threat was forgotten immediately when Clint walked to sit on the sofa, and the beautiful shot of his hairy green back sent Peter and Tony into another fit of giggles.

“Worry not, Clint,” Thor spoke up, his face dead straight as he spoke. “I know of a place where a man much like you is loved and perhaps even worshipped by its inhabitants.” He sat back in his seat with an arm around Bruce (who was doing an amazing job at hiding his laughter).

“Oh yeah, and where’s that?” Clint grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut in the hopes that maybe this was all a bad dream.

“Whoville.”

The room immediately fell back into a roar of laughter, and even Tony couldn’t help himself as he leaned back onto the kitchen counter and laughed himself all the way down to the floor by Peter’s side. Clint got up and walked to the elevator with a middle finger raised in the air. Who would’ve thought Peter Parker would be capable of enacting such perfect _evil_.

“I’m retiring, you guys suck.”

“Don’t go stealing Christmas on your way up, Mr. Grinch,” Sam called out, and the laughter that encompassed the room didn’t die down until almost half an hour later.

By the time an hour had passed, all of the Avengers had gone to bed, laughter still lingering on their tongues as they all bid each other a goodnight and a good luck to Tony and Peter. Only the latter two stayed up, still planted to the floor with backs leaning up against the counter as they picked out the best pictures of Clint to put into the scrapbook. After the room fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Tony finally spoke.

“I take back what I said, kid. That was a pretty great idea.” A light snore and a dead-weight pressure on his shoulder was all Tony needed to know that Peter had already fallen asleep. But, still, that didn’t stop him as he quickly added, “You’re a genius just like your old man.”

Knowing that neither of them would be moving until morning, Tony called up to his AI to dim the lights, and shuffled Peter into a more comfortable position. With Peter’s head rested on his chest, and his own arm wrapped around his shoulder, Tony closed his eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. And when Clint was the first to find them the next morning, even he let a smile spread across his face at the sight of the two.

“Fuck, now I’ve got to deal with two of ‘em.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ayy hope you liked it <3  
> Also I really loved watching Dexter's laboratory as a kid and honestly Dee Dee was my fave.


End file.
